Tangled Grooves
by Not Safe For Workism
Summary: Years ago, the Brotherhood boys took off. It happened in the middle of the night, with no warning what so ever, and left nothing but questions. Now, the X-Men have stumbled upon Toad - and they couldn't leave him there, not like that, but he's so ruined and broken that they don't know if they can live with him either.
1. Skintight Clothes

A/N: Yes, I know, how odd of me to post something that isn't smutty. But this idea hit me and wouldn't let go, and technically still deserves a mature rating. So it's going here, and I would absolutely love to hear what people think of it. The chapters will all be fairly short, but that's for a reason. I'm using it both to set the tone, and to allow for quicker updates.

So, please, tell me what you think of it!

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The last rays of the sun were shining down, turning the grungy street a shade of deep red. The fading light bounced off of broken glass, mostly from beer bottles, some from busted head-lights, and almost set the side-walk aflame. Almost made it pretty, if only because it took one's eye away from the heaps of garbage and half-ripped open trash bags.

It didn't hide the smell though, which was sour and putrid, like rotted meat and heat-filled vomit. Was enough to make most new comers retch and turn away - but Todd wasn't a new comer and he couldn't leave. Not now, in prime business hours.

He stood near the street corner, back pressed against a rusted lamp. It didn't work any more, with the bulb cracked and small pieces of glass scattered on the cement walkway. It pressed up into the thin soles of Todd's shoes; the same red converse sneakers that he'd worn when he was fifteen. The only thing about him that was the same, the only thing he hadn't found a reason to replace or destroy or hide from the world at large.

His tawny hair was pulled back into its customary ponytail, which went down to his shoulder and helped to hide the streaks of grease from passers-by. The shirt he wore, which was too long but also a good size too small, rubbed at his skin whenever he moved, scraping away at crusted over scabs and cuts as he nodded at a busty blonde passing by.

Starla offered him a nod in return, but didn't change her path. Her low-cut shirt revealed all and his skirt was more like a pair of briefs than anything else. But who cared about desency back here? That wasn't what got you money.

Appeal was.

Maybe that was why Todd's collar bones stuck out from his wide-neck collar, pressing uncomfortable tight against his paper-thin skin. Or why his stomach had long ago ceased to hurt from hunger, and he now felt nothing but a twitch every now and then as it struggled to liquify and devour itself.

Because he had no appeal. Not to most customers, anyway. Only the most desperate would take him - and he hoped that the car sliding up to the edge of the sidewalk a few feet away, which was a cherry red and so clean that it shined in the light of the fading sun, like nothing that Todd had ever owned or dreamt of owning, would maybe carry someone just desperate enough to offer some money in exchange for his body.

When Todd drew himself up, forcing his spine into the straight posture of a normal human and ignoring the twinge of pain it brought, he sent a pointed glance down, first the left side of the street, then the right. A few of the other girls frowned at him and flipped their hair, but they knew that they would get twice the amount of business if he wasn't around. So they let him walk towards the now parked car; shoulders back in a manner that said he knew what he was doing, eyes half-lidded and mouth drawn into a crooked smile.

Whoever was in the passenger side rolled down the window, and for a brief moment Todd felt panic brew in his chest. Groups were never fun for him, and were rarely safe. They paid well though, and the mutant boy forced himself to keep that in mind as he sauntered over, snug jeans flush against the skin of his legs, kept up only by his protruding hipbones.

Vaguely, he noted that whoever was driving the car must not have been from around here. Locals knew better than to just roll their window down all the way. Not until they made sure it was a hooker coming up to them, and not some crazy ass freak with a gun.

Still, the young man used the action to his advantage. Bending down (and, God, it felt nice to let his spine curve), he draped both arms onto the edge of the window, hands dangling inside of the car. The sleeves of his dark red shirt fell past his knuckles, letting only his long, thin fingers show.

"You need somethin', hot stuff?" he drawled, and his eyes stayed mostly closed, even as he took in the cars passengers.


	2. Pale Faces

A/N: I forgot to mention the first time around, I'm also very eager to please my readers. Which means that I take every review and every suggestion to heart. Nothing you will be ignored - so please, don't hesitate to say it! Just leave a review and let me know what you think. :D

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A woman, with flawless skin and long red hair, sat in in the passenger side. She jerked her backwards when Todd leaned into the car - and he noted that the shirt she wore, light blue and perfectly fitted to her curves, was spotless. An expensive brand too, if the small white bird on the shoulder was anything to go by.

The drivers seat had a man in it, and Todd could tell by the sudden bunching of his shoulders that he was nervous. Tanned fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel, and they were gripping it tight enough that his knuckles were turning white.

Not there for sex then. Fuck.

"Uhm, no, no. We're fine." the girl said, waving one hand slightly. She shifted in her seat, trying to put a few more inches between herself and the unwelcoming man. In the fading evening light, his skin looked almost gray and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of disease he happened to have.

The half-hearted smile slipped off of Todd's face, and a scowl settled there instead. He let out a harsh sigh through his nose, then had to fight back a cough at the action because, damn, that hurt his lungs.

"You stopped for somethin', babe." he snapped. "So if you need directions or shit, just ask. You already wasted my time."

The woman glanced at the driver out of the corner of her eyes, and then the man was leaning closer to the window. He had on a pair of sunglasses, Todd noted, despite the fact that it was far from bright out.

"Actually, we could use some help." he said, and one hand moved slightly to rest on the red-heads.

Dating, then. Not married, because there was no ring and Todd knew that for a fact because his sharp eyes would never miss the glint of gold. Not when it sold for bundles at pawn shops.

"Spit it out then." snapped Todd, because he had no reason to be kind or polite to someone that wasn't going to pay for him. Fuckin' assholes were costing him valuable street-time.

The man nodded, fingers twining with the woman's slender ones. "We're looking for someone. A girl. She, uh, she goes by the name of Lace?"

Without thinking, Todd jerked out of the car and took a hurried step back. Automatically, he was on gaurd; shoulders and back collapsing and feet inching apart; hands held just slightly in front of him, one open, one curled into a tight fist; eyes narrowed into smog-colored slits.

"Lace ain't takin' no more customers, bastard." he spat, and he let himself have the flash of satisfaction when both of the high-life customers in the car had the grace to look surprised.

Maybe a little bit ashamed, even.

"It's not like that - " the man started.

Todd didn't give him a chance to finish. Words little more than snarls, he gave a harsh shake of his head. "Fuck off. She ain't interested in nothin' you got, geeks."

And while his mind was focusing on Lace (and wasn't she what everyone on the streets was thinking about lately? Who everyone had just unanimously decided to protect?), he missed the slight flash of recognition in the woman's blue eyes.

Suddenly, she was leaning close to him, gaze scrutinizing. Like she could see straight through him, deep into his soul and mind - and, fuckin' Hell, something was suddenly prodding at the tattered shreds of his mind, trying to see where one ruined thought began and another ended.

But there was nothing there, nothing they could do or he could do. He was broken, shattered, ruined - and he was screaming too, even though he didn't register that fact. Every obscenitiy and insult he knew, instincts taking hold when his mind failed.

And, at the moment, his instincts were set for flight.


	3. Ruined Mind

A/N: First, I want to thank everyone whose read this story for giving it a chance. Then, I want to thank my one viewer, an anon, for letting me know that they're enjoying reading this. That review's what gave me the energy to write this today, despite the fact that I should be off doing other things.

As always, I love to hear from my readers so, please, drop off a review!

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There are some things that hurt deeper then skin, then muscle, then bone. Things that scar, not just the body, but the mind; leaving permenant grooves in ones brain, where nothing but hate and fear travle. Where it can never be mended, because it's out of everyones reach.

Todd happened to have a lot of these grooves, all criss-crossing with each other and forming a tangled mass of hopelessness inside of him. Creating nothing but confusion and altering an already damaged mind, bringing the insanity to the forefront and leaving common sense in the dust.

At the moment, it was those grooves that he was listening too.

They told him to take flight, because something had touched them. And it _hurt so badly_ to be touched like that; felt like hot ash had been poured into his skull; like someone had taken a hammer to him, over and over and over, until his face was nothing more than a smear on the already ruined concrete.

Todd listened to them, because they were always right. Not the grooves, per say, but the voices that lived in them. They always knew what was going on, so he followed them like he followed Magneto once-upon-a-time.

His lanky frame had an akward gait. A too-flexible spine folded into an inhuman curve - and even that position, which had once been so natural too him, second nature really, even that sent jolts of pain through him. Todd's left leg was twisted slightly, from a break that had never been treated, and stuck just a tad to the side, which made his bounce filled steps seem even more off-kilter. The thick fabric of his shirt kept his palms safe from the grit of the cement, but the glass shards just pierced straight through.

Todd didn't even register it. Just kept moving like a man possesed, because he had to get away from these people with their invasive powers. These _mutants_ that invaded the mind and left it tattered.

He had to warn Lace that it wasn't safe here any more, in the streets of New York.

"Todd!" called the woman, and he was so surpised by the word that he glanced backwards. Saw her swinging open the door to the car, and then both she and the man were running towards him. Saw it, but didn't register the fact, because his mind was still stuck on what she had called him.

People didn't call him Todd, anymore. Hadn't in a long time. Not since he was actually considered a human, however much a freak of one that he'd been.

He was tired and hungry and sore, and he wasn't paying attention to where he was placing his hands either. A fatal mistake because suddenly his limbs were flailing every which way as he tried to regain his balance, blood-slick hands unable to get a grip even on the rough surface of the concrete. Todd's bent leg buckled; and fire laced from that knee up into the base of his spine, then further and further, spiraling up and deeper, into his veins.

Todd yelped, but the noise was muffled when his face came in contact with the ground. Skin tore and he could feel the cartilage of his nose buckle - but it was all a blurr to the young mutant, all blending together and forming a cacophony of pain and copper and darkness.

Suddenly, he found that, even though he was still conscious, or at least thought he was conscious, he could no longer see.


	4. Bloodstained Skin

A/N: Second update of the day! I had fun writing this chapter up, so I hope that you all enjoy reading it. And, well, that you let me know what you liked about it or what I can change about it. Now, I know a lot of people hate it when authors grovel for reviews, but put yourselves in my shoes for a little bit. Hearing what you all think of my writing is what makes me want to write more - and, at the moment, I've had a hundred people read this story and a single review.

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_"Bastard child," hissed the voices, all hoarse and low. Threatening like nothing else that Todd had heard before - except, hadn't he heard these exact sounds years ago?_

_He didn't know. Didn't know who was talking, or where he was. Just that it was dark. Dark enough that, in his mind, a different word should have been used to describe the chasm that he suddenlt found himself in. Black was a little better, because that was the only color that he could see._

_Just black._

_"Fuckin' loser," hissed another voice, and this one was right in Todd's ear. He tried to scream and run from it, but found that his feet were rooted in place. Everything was stiff and sore, and all that came out of his throat was a rasping rush of air._

_Fear coursed through the young man; because, really, he was still young. Or was he old now, and almost done aging?_

_Todd suddenly couldn't remember. Then he couldn't even hear his own thoughts._

_Around him, the rough voices had risen to a crescendo. They weren't low now, weren't whispers. They were screams; loud, earshattering screams; horrid sounds, that could have come from a beast just as easily as they could have come from a man._

_"Fuckin' worthless piece of shit!"_

_"-left because no one needed you!"_

_"Retarded shit! Can't do anything right, can you, you fucker?"_

_Over and over, louder and louder, until all of the insults and names were just merging into one ring, ear-piercing and shrill. Todd didn't remember when he'd started to sob, just that the tears running down his face had started to burn away at his skin, leaving trails of ash and blood behind. That it burnt and everything around him was turning red, red, _red!

_He tried to claw at his face, but his arms were pinned to his sides. It was like someone had tied iron weights to his wrists, and they were tearing at the fragile skin there._

_Todd knew pain, and he knew the screaming, shrieking laughter. He knew dark and black and red. Then he knew hands, clambering at his body and they weren't hands any more but claws that were trying to rip away his skin. Trying to wrench him open like the frogs Miss Kiowatz had once tried to get him to dissect, way back in eleventh grade; like the nameless doctor, who had just pried and pried and pried until Todd's voice gave way and he couldn't even breath._

_Then, he didn't know anything at all._


	5. Dark Revelations

A/N: Eyup, another chapter. We're getting closer to the plot of the story, now, so I hope everyone's still reading!

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The first thing that Todd was aware of was a dull, almost non-existant thrumming noise. Like someone had a fan on nearby, and it was pointing in his direction, drowning out everything else. For a moment, it was a comforting sound. It meant that he was still alive; that he hadn't offed himself; that he hadn't over-dosed; that he hadn't been murdered in the back of some alley, with his pants down around his ankles.

Then it was frightening, because he recognized that noise.

Had heard it every day of his life for almost three years, now. Whenever business got slow and he couldn't scrounge the money up for his drugs, and the voices hit him full force. From every direction and angle, from every person, building, shape and color.

Todd tried to empty his mind, but the pain had hit him at that point. Burning agony on the left side of his face, and his palms, and something was wrong with his left leg - the broken one, which always seemed to give him trouble this time of year. It _was_ winter, wasn't it? That was usually when it hurt like this.

He let out a groan without thinking, and the action of skin stretching against bone sent pain shooting through him. Todd's right hand twitched. He could hear footsteps. They got closer to him, closer and closer and closer, and then the young mutant was flinging himself off whatever he was laid out on.

Vision blurred for a moment, and it only came back to him in his right eye. Colors merged together and lines were all but nonexistant. Vaguely, Todd could make out a shock of red hair and blue eyes; bright, too bright of a blue.

Everything hurt and he wasn't steady on his legs - which was such a terrifing thought, because those legs were the only real weapon that he had right then. Todd's left leg was trembling, muscles past being spent, flesh and bone a like abused.

Still, he forced his upper lip to draw back in a snarl, bareing his blood and grime smeared teeth. The action hurt, but he didn't let up because that was a sign of weakness and if there was one thing that he knew, it was to not show weakness around strangers. Not let them know that he was backed into a corner with no where to go - and where was he again? Not in the alley. It was too bright for that.

Just the wrong vibes in general; and the steady buzzing in his ear brought up yet another question. But it was one that would have to wait, because drugs could always be obtained and he needed to know things about where he was _then_.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, and it hurt to make his face move like that but he didn't show it. Was used to hiding the pain.

The woman, with her long red hair and clean white skin, just stared at him and she looked so surprised that it almost hurt.

"Don't you remember me?" she asked - but Todd didn't.


	6. Almost Known

A/N: Hello, everyone! Thank you to my lovely anon reviewer - your note meant a lot to me! And thank you to everyone that read but didn't review! At least I know people are interested. :D

Enjoy, please!

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Jean Grey.

Psychic.

X-Man.

All these things and more. That's who the red-haired woman with the too-blue eyes claimed to be. And, yes, Todd vaguely recalled knowing someone that went by that name, but it had been so many years that he wasn't certain.

They had been on seperate teams, and that thought was at the forefront of his mind. That they had been enemies. So when she moved to take a step closer to him, he forced his spine into the bend that hurt-but-shouldn't, and pulled both arms up in front of him; one hand palm out, one hand curled into a fist so tight that his blunt nails dug into skin.

"Stop movin', Red." he snarled, and he didn't really know where that nickname came from but it seemed right. Had he called her that, before he left Bayville?

Maybe. Maybe not. The small details were always such a jumble, and usually too worthless to even attempt sifting through. Facts like that just blended with reality, and if Jean hadn't frozen the way that she did, Todd would just as easily have brushed it off as being something he made up.

"Todd...What happened to you?" asked Jean, and she seemed almost hesitant to ask.

Todd didn't answer. Just countered her question with one of his own. "Where the fuck am I?"

Jean winced at the course language. It was something that she had never gotten into, even as she aged. Uncouth and rude, she didn't see where curse words served any real purpose.

"You're in a hotel room, Todd." she answered, and she made sure to keep her voice soft and her words gentle. Like she was speaking to a wounded animal - and she just as well might have been, because she knew as much about the man before her as she knew about a rabid dog.

The last time she had seen Todd Tolensky, he had been fifteen and, while his eyes hadn't exactly been bright, they hadn't been dead like this either. He had always been on the scrawny side, but the way that his collar bones jutted against skin and his clothing hung loosely off his frame was something that she had never seen before.

To Jean, it looked like he hadn't eaten anything in days. In reality, that wasn't far from the truth.

When they had caught up to him, sprawled out on the side-walk and more unconscious then awake, they had brought him back here, to the room she and Scott were staying in. Jean had done what she could with his left eye - but there had been a lot of blood, and she was no doctor, far from it, actually.

Jean had seen scars on his face - including a thin one, above the right eyebrow, that looked like it may have been torn open more than once.

Her bright blue eyes met the almost golden-grey ones of the man across from her, and they saw fear and anger and pain and uncertainty. Then, in just a split-instance, for just a moment, she saw nothing.

Just coal, staring back at her.

Todd never moved his eyes away from Jean, even as he tested each leg out. Shifting his weight from one side to the other, and deciding that even though his left leg hurt like a bitch, it wasn't badly injured. Just stressed.

"Why'm I here?" demanded Todd - because that was something that he honestly didn't know the answer too. Even if he had been friends with Jean before, which he doubted because he didn't think he had any friends, no one outside of the Brotherhood at least, what was the point in her finding and helping him now? After so many years had passed?

Jean thought that was a very good question.


	7. Jumbled Thoughts

"We were looking for a woman named Lace." answered Jean, and it wasn't the answer Todd was looking for because it didn't serve much of a purpose. Just set him on edge.

"She ain't a woman." snapped Todd, and he shifted backwards ever so slightly, moving closer to the bed - and, for a brief moment, he asked himself how long ago it had been since he'd slept on one of those. On anything aside from the alley street or some guy's backseat, when he fell asleep before handing over the cash that Todd was owed.

He thought that it had been a very, very long time. Years, even, though he wasn't certain. Wasn't even sure how long he'd been out here in New York, anymore.

Just like he wasn't sure about Jean. Once upon a time, Todd had thought that the X-Men were the good guys. When a mutant was in trouble, they showed up in their fancy suits and their well-tuned cars, then they swept whoever was in need off to a life of ease. Gave them food and money and clothes. A warm bed and a medication. Provided an education. Helped control powers.

They were the good guys.

But hadn't they abandoned Todd and the others? The boys whose faces he could no longer remember, but whose names would forever be etched in his mind?

Yes. They had.

Pietro and Lance and Freddy. Wanda and himself. All of them - just left, to rot and die and why was Jean staring at him like that? Todd tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, completely unaware that he'd been asked a question.

So he just watched Jean, until she eventually repeated herself.

"What do you mean she isn't a woman, Todd?" asked Jean. She didn't know why, but she felt like it was important to use his name as often as he could, this boy who seemed so lost and broken.

Oh. Didn't she know? Evidently not.

Without thinking, Todd let out another snort. This time, he couldn't keep the cough in, as the rush of air burnt his abused lungs. It was a loud, dry hack and Jean moved to take a step closer to him. Probably because she wanted to help, Todd knew, but he couldn't take that chance and inched back again. The underside of his knees bumped against the bed.

"I mean she ain't a woman, dumbass. Can't you fuckers get anything right?" he snarled. He was highly protective of Lace, just like most of the other street-workers were. Thought of her like, not family, because he had none of that, and not a friend, because he didn't have those either, but Todd cared for her more than he did other girls and that was something. Right?

Yes, he decided. It was something. A big something, because there was very little that he cared about these days.

Shifting on his feet, he waved one hand at a wall as he clarified himself. "Lace's fourteen. Not a woman."


End file.
